Sleep to the Sound of Strings

Three A.M., awake once again,

waiting for the morning for the sun to warm my skin.

It's cold, the shutters and the shades,

all completely drawn closed still the chilliness pervades.

It's cool, to be awake tonight,

just me and my six string and a solitary light,

From a cigarette, burning, so bright next to my bed,

A chance to calm my nerves and clear the cobwebs from my head.

So soft the pillows and these sheets,

but nothing can compare to the fabric of your dreams,

When you fall asleep, I'll be there where you are,

sliding into slumber to the beating of your heart.

baby mine, baby mine, baby mine,

only your touch reminds me that everything is fine.

Chopin Nocturne and Clam Chowder

I begin writing this note of pleasant thoughts, with Sarah Chang on violin and home-style clam chowder in the porcelain bowl in front of me. Like the music, the texture of the soup is both soft and warming, a sensation which brings my nerves to a still, but unlike the violin the soup is meant to suspend pangs of hunger while the music is for the mind, the body and the soul. I cannot at best, discern which of the two is more nourishing at this moment. Should I dare, I fear that the music would stop and the soup would go cold, so in the few moments that I have of both, I am content. Thank you for these euphoric pauses in time.